The V-Incident - Green Eyes
by Glorioux
Summary: Harry was the boy who wasn't all he appeared to be. He has an inner demon whose eyes as green as his, Jealousy. Harry and Hermione are not getting along, and it's in the news. Their war declaration was issued after their Valentine's Ball's dirty-dancing and their naughty, play acting weekend. Viktor, the rival, will fight a dirty war to get the pregnant witch. Irreverent and wild.
1. Harry the green eyed monster

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, locations, and other recognizable places and people, are the wonderful creations and brain children of a master quill: Ms. J.K.R. I do not get paid for this writing. This story will contain adult situations later.

**◄ ►█▓◄ ►HARMONY◄ ►▓█◄ ►**

This is story I wrote long ago. I have written a few dark humor fictions, and this is one of them. A third-less-serious, and surely the characters are OOC. This is a Harmony with Viktor playing the part of the evil-doer, and Draco the Pureblood. Ron has a mature part and so most of the Weasleys. It is meant to make you laugh, mostly, and might have a little sadness in between, but nothing terrible. There are references, and mostly words, however it is intended for mature readers. It is not cannon, not at all. At least not after the battle, Happy Valentines

I am not sure if the readers are not enjoying my work. I don't know how I am doing unless you let me know.

Here it goes.

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**□▪▫■□▪▫■□HARMONY□▪▫■□▪▫■□**

**_Harry's green eyes, a Valentine story in several acts_**

_**Act I Part 1**_

_**The Jealous Monster**_

Harry was the boy who lived, the boy who conquered, and the boy who wasn't all he appeared to be. He had an inner demon, with eyes as green as his, his name was Jealousy. Jealousy had a close friend, her name was Denial, and she shared the closed quarters inside his crowded brain. Once in a while they would visit with a faded entity, a sliver of the ghost who hid in small corners, his name used to be Tom Riddle, albeit all that was left were his eyes and some of his evil; it only came out when Harry was angry, and lately, it happened quite often.

Hermione had turned around upon at hearing his voice "Mimi, any news from Vicky the Bulgarian Oaf?"

Harry asked with cultivated disinterest, one eye in his cereal and one surreptitiously on Hermione, who was reading her owl messages. He had recognized Viktor's impressive snowy owl, which sported a small gold bracelet in his right leg. Hermione was flushed, biting her lip...

- _Damn that lip biting! It is her fault I am so uncomfortably hard, damn Viktor, with his probably suggestive mail, damn them all. Thought Harry - she melts for that ox and I have to pay a high price. I have to deal with the suffering she inflicts upon me, with all her suggestive body language, burn the witch. It is not a wonder she has that bullet head after her bum. Ugh.-_ Thought Harry, his inner voice aided by his inner demons, egged him on.

Harry's jaw now clenched and unclenched, and his neck muscles were all knotted, and his eyes shone, suspiciously, red.

"Mmm, you asked?" Mumbled Hermione, in what Harry deemed as an ultra-sexy-bedroom-voice, and he watched mesmerized as her small finger twirled that delicious little curl, adding lip licking to her, already, enticing repertoire. He shook his head to clear the fog between his ears. Yup, there goes the damn tongue, and she just added lip licking to her repertoire. Bad, horrible flirt. Harry wanted to scream, just thinking about her thoughtless actions.

How can she so carelessly play with my manly feelings, what a lack of consideration! She has dared to call herself my best friend. Ha, the witch eats wizards for snacks and spits out their bones in the rubbish pail. Voldie was a pussycat compared to her, and I was afraid of him, hmm. He was in a funk, down a downhill road, and could not stop.

Harry shook his body and ears resembling Padfoot after he took a dip in the pond, and he expelled an angry sigh. He tore his eyes away from her but still leaned forward as he tried to catch a whiff of her. He wanted to smell Viktor on her. No, no men cologne, it was safe.

_What's up with that sniffing? Could have Harry been bitten by a werewolf?_ Hermione wondered. He had been behaving very strange since she'd started dating Viktor, weird, could it be that he cared?

Her heart fluttered thinking about it, _nah, if he did why he would act this way seemingly forgetting their weekend of wild shagging? Why, because he was a P.I.G., yes, and all wizards were rubbish, that was all there was to it!_ A fat tear started to fall down her cheek, but she brusquely dried it as quickly as it left her tear duct.

Hermione wondered. He had been behaving very strange since she started dating Viktor, weird, could it be that he cared? Her heart fluttered thinking about it; _nope, he had nearly shagged her to death, shagged her rotten; and now he was back to the stoic, frozen wizard. What had turned him into this Harry-Popsicle, she wanted the Harry-Hot-Fudge, where had gone? He let her have an overdose of the rich, sinful, Hot-Choco-Fudge-Harry, and now all she got, was a tasteless ninety calories, Popsicle-Harry_. She heard his voice.

"So, dear Miss Granger, what does the Bulgarian wunderkind have to say? And do you ever wonder why one would gold-tag an Owl, is not that just a tad pretentious?" He asked once again trying to sound casual but really seething with jealousy and intense anger. And to emphasize his lack of curiosity, he took a savage bite of his toast.

_Viktor has a bullet head, and that stupid beard; he is the missing link, covered with hair from head to toe. He is a living troglodyte; the direct descendant from the first Homos Erectus, barely a hop from the primates. _Besides he told himself,_ it wasn't just bad mouthing Vicky, after all I have studied prehistory at my Muggle Primary School, where I memorized all the important names and facts, they came in handy, and, besides, I am no dummy, I have kept up with my reading._

"And what makes you think that I have heard from Vicky?" Hermione looked at him suspiciously and put a hissing accent on the word, Vicky.

She hated that nickname, along with the other nasty appellatives, an entire arsenal at Harry's disposition. If Boy-Sicle's adoring public, could hear the way he labeled a perfectly decent wizard, they would change their minds about him. And what had him going? _Aha, has he been reading my mail again, the control freak. Why does he think he is entitled to recriminations, he has no right, dirty rat; Mr. Strike, hit, and run, that is his name._ Her mind was no longer in rational mode.

"No reason, just making conversation, I thought I'd spotted pumpkin's sloppy penmanship."

Harry was irritated at Hermione's inability to appreciate his fine jabber, and she just didn't get it. In his opinion, it was a refined form of subtle- fun, targeted to her ridiculously terms of endearment; _after all, who would refer to the troglodyte as pumpkin, ha-ha. A lorry full of pumpkins was more likely. _He complained to his inner mates.

"And by the way, I just had breakfast and that gushiness you write to him, makes my tender stomach churn," and shivered for added visual effect, "just the mere thought, and I become nauseous and terribly sick, it is enough to render me incapacitated for the rest of the day, and I need to go to work." He shuddered and burped loudly, followed by hitting his chest twice to relieve the pressure. If looks could have killed he would have died on the spot.

_He is nothing but a testosterone ridden P.I.G._, I rest my case, Hermione thought with great contempt.

_**Act 1 Part 2**_

_**An Annoyed Witch**_

"You are a gross, uneducated, nasty, rude, pig. Listen once and listen well; open your ears; this is my life, my business, my words, MINE; and if you don't like them, then that is quite unfortunate, right, darling? And do me a favor, quit reading over my shoulder and snooping on what isn't yours." Sarcasm and venom dripped out of her mouth with each spoken word.

Her hair crackled and bounced, it was alive and fully charged with her angry magic, "And let this be the last, last warning: Quit spying on me, I don't snoop on your cheaply-perfumed-slag-mail which drips with lust after being flown in by the gazillion boy-wonder–fan-club-owls! No only, you don't even wash your hands after you handle. Yuck, have you ever wondered what those fingers were before handling the scroll; never mind you leave them on the table where we ... oh, gods, I am going to be sick." She ran to the loo, barfed, and came back.

_She really was sick to her stomach a lot, what could be happening, too much rich food with Vicky?_

The witch's voice had risen considerably, and it was rather loud, "And, I am the one who gets stuck baking the mouse-flour-cookies for the owls and cleaning their mess. Why should I be the one who has to shovel all that manure? Kreacher deems it beneath him, because regular household spells are not effective enough! Ha."

Her impetus was gathering speed and viciousness, and her hair, as usual, was crackling and spewing magic sparkles. Nobody, in their right mind would come between their cross fire.

"Furthermore, it takes many time consuming cleaning charms to rid the house from the noxious gases her cheap whorish perfumes leave. Ugh," A very visible body shudder, "I am talking about Ginger-Ginny. She is nothing but a big SLAG." She concluded by throwing a fine, bone china plate on the floor, and walking on top of it after smashing it to pieces. Before he could say anything, she twirled her finger and casted, "Reparo," and the plate were put back in one piece.

She turned around and in a very grown gesture, she stuck out her tongue to one Harry Potter, boy-wonder.

_**Act II Part I**_

_**The –V-Day-Incident- Current State of Affairs**_

Yup, life at Grimmauld 12 had turned into a living a hell for the ten weeks preceding our war heroes disastrous breakfast. The state of affairs had taken a southward turn after The-Valentine- Incident, as it was commonly labeled by those who still talked about the couple's dirty dancing affair, if they only knew.

The night of the Valentine's Day ball, once they Apparated back to Grimmauld 12, and in their drunken craziness, not missing a beat, shagged like young bunnies let lose in an Amortensia patch; or in more modern terms, as young bunnies participating in a Viagra study.

It was not the first time, not indeed, it was nothing new. The shagging had happened before, at a steady monthly rate; but, only, if they drank too much celebrating significant life events; or perhaps, some tragedy had occurred, or they were bummed, or they were upset or whatever, the reasons were plentiful. The next day, they would go into serious denial, reverting to bickering as usual; after mutual claims of suffering an alcohol-induced-amnesia.

"What a headache," one of the two would invariably claim. A couple seconds later, "I must have drunken too much. I cannot remember going to bed, or half of the night for that matter." The other one would tell Ron, who would drink his tea faster. The years had made him wiser, and mostly, he also lived a comfortable life of denial.

"Yes, it is awful, just a big blank," the other would acknowledge in a grumble. The words said, they both had the needed absolution for their shagging-sin, and life was back to _normal. _

It was indeed a simple formula which allowed them to continue their comfortable sibling lives, and nobody was ever the wiser.

Unfortunately, her failed romance with Draco accelerated the rate of occurrence of such '_incidents_', which both participants were unable to recognize as a glowing marker of a new phase in their relationship.

Because, whether or not they were willing to admit, there was a big difference between The-Valentine's Day-Incident, or as commonly referred to as the V-Incident, and any earlier time, was the fact that, never before had they attempted to break their personal record on shagging, during a sixty-hour period.

During normal times, they both acted equally grossed out about having sex with their siblings, which created their amnesia, and would increase their daily squabbles. Sibling was the term of endearment they called each other during their non-conflictive times; but the occasional lapses into non-sibling encounters, had never created such conflict before. Indeed, the V- Incident had turned life into a living nightmare, for all those who knew them, and had to be around them. Even their pets were looking for a good home.

_**Act II – Part II**_

_**The-V-Incident- and the Four Letter L-Word**._

The main point of contention wasn't the shagging, it was that the last time, in the midst of drunkenness, they both had uttered the L-word, over and over again, and it was the first time, ever, this had occurred.

That night, they had gone as each other's date to the Malfoy's Love Ball, in honor of the now trendy, Valentines' day celebration. Over the years, the Malfoy Family had become their favorite victims, and they arrived at the ball in coordinated attires, hers in heavy fire- engine red silk, his a waistcoat of the same silk, darker dress robes, and a silver tie matching her shawl.

They had, intentionally, dressed as their hosts; Kreacher had mastered the industrial espionage needed to get the valuable information. Initially, they also imitated Lucius and Narcissa, dancing and exchanging air kisses, rather fake. It started at the moment they arrived, complimenting their hosts' hair, the Manor, the Ball, not sincere, not whatsoever, and the Dark couple had eaten from the wicked couple's hand.

Draco and Astoria were, however, the real butt of their jokes. Draco was dancing with the stuffy and dried up Astoria, who Hermione had caught more than once, making herself barf in order to keep her slender figure.

Draco was in love with Hermione, and would chase her like a dog after a female in heat. Much to the delight of his two main tormentors, whose polls varied, from how many flowers he would send, to how many times during a given day, to how many excuses, he would have to figure out, so he could drop by their office at least once per day—thanks to the fact that he handled their finances.

"Harry's and Hermione's," George had informed the family after attending the Ball, "tame dancing didn't last, and it morphed into, well, an ultra-suggestive dance. Hermione promised me that we would watch the Muggle moving picture that planted the seed in their fertile Machiavellic mind." George's eyes glazed for a second, as if in a trance. His father's cough brought him back.

He cleared his throat and drank a sip of pumpkin juice, "As, I was telling you; the naughty couple spent the rest of their evening dirty- dancing. They told me it was in order to torment the blond snake Draco. Their floorshow kept all attendees, including Lucius and Narcissa, with their eyes glued to the dance floor, and not in a healthy way. " George waggled his eyebrows, "The stuffy guests, wished to be the one of the couple, either Hermione or Harry, that was clear to me."

To the family's raucous laughter, George told them that Draco had drunk himself under the table and had refused to dance with his wife, whom he had called a broom pole, loud and for all the guests to hear, "not very nice of him." George recognized.

"Draco walked towards the dirty dancers and tried to get Hermione to dance with him. Every one stopped dancing to watch. Hermione let go of Harry and turned towards Draco, whose triumphal smile made me cringe. There were no basis for my concern, since she just rubbed her body all over him, up and down, quite suggestively; poor witch, she was drunk, and then walked away to Harry to dance some more. Draco was left standing in the middle of the dance floor, clearly aroused and blinking, all confused,"

George told the Weasleys in the midst of boisterous guffaws.

Alas, the guilty couple wasn't all bad; he had it coming.

_Hermione had a thing for him before he married the pureblood. They had been lovers for a while, over a year, until Draco had advised her that he would be wedded in two months, and not with her. He had dropped by her office with the invitation scroll, rather considerate from his part._

_"Darling, I cannot stop the wedding, I have planned it for a year," Draco had told her. Yup, it was precisely the year he had been with her._

_And he added, "My pet, you have nothing to worry, everything is under control. I have taken care off all the details, I have bought a wonderful small cottage to meet and be ourselves, loving to abandon, shall we say our little love nest. Darling, you must understand that I am a Pureblood, and you, well, are not the same, ehem. You must have known that my children had to be the purest of all."_

_ He concluded with a radiant smile handled her, the invitation scroll; not only that, he tried to make love to her right there, in the same office. The nerve, he had signed a war declaration, and that he got_.

_Later, she would often remember and had told the Weasleys at their office conference room, in a perfect imitation of a Malfoy,_ _"Darling, a Malfoy cannot marry someone like you. You didn't expect me, did you Darling?" After his stupid remark, he had treated her to his snobbish and hateful laugher, "Silly puss, not a good thing to do," and he had clicked his tongue in admonishment._

_"My darling, don't be sad, because, it doesn't matter; I only have to shag her a few times a month, and once she is pregnant, only when I want. It is all in the contract. Now come to me, and let me have you, I cannot wait, and I know you are dying for me. Aren't we lucky we are so modern? "_

Yes she was lucky, but he wasn't, and she proceeded to make his life living hell, because he was never again allowed to her garden of daily delights and even less when she moved back to Grimmauld 12.

As with all complicated stories, Draco was the reason the roommates, Harry and Hermione had started openly shagging, what had started as a game to make him jealous, led to a game of 'pretending,' which would always land them at the same location, his bed.

All had been well, except for their slip-ups, and the tactical drunken amnesia took care of the rest. It well went without a hitch, until that night of the dirty dancing, and if that wasn't enough; a fact unknown to George, was that they shagged at the Malfoy Manor, three times—and were caught by Draco twice of them.

_Act II – Part III_

George remembered that their eyes were pure lust, making all those around them kind of uncomfortable and wishing. He looked down at his feet, he had also been one the ones, wishing and a bit ashamed. Angelina had been angry with him

As a side note, the last time he caught them, Draco had asked them, "May I join, please my darling. I cannot take it anymore. My sex life is a sham, and my only thoughts are of you, my Hermione." He cried drunkenly, and addressed Harry, "I cannot divorce Astoria. Harry, please make her understand my Malfoy position; and I will share my sweet Hermione with you if I must; I will be willing."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears, after all he had said, his crocodile tears. He had the bollocks, the cojones, the balls, to say that he wanted her but wanted to keep his wife, in other words: Hermione the mistress. That was a laugh, thus, after his ill-thought, poorly timed, confession, they laughed in his face and Apparated back home, still shagging.

What was also different was that shagging wasn't limited to that single night, or even a single day, it never stopped and continued through the entire weekend. Continued was a mild way to describe the extent of their interaction. It was the mother of all Valentine celebrations.

Let's just talk about the facts; the closed-Floo pair was totally incommunicado for over 48 hours. They failed to show up to any dates, appointments, nobody saw them, heard from them, or caught a whiff of them the entire weekend.

Ron arrived to a scene that still haunted him. He was the witness to the horrors that had transpired in the modernized and plushy decorated Grimmauld 12. And he still blamed himself for their separation, maybe he was right.

_Ron walks Memory Lane-_

Both roommates were butt naked, or nearly so. Hermione wore a cowgirl hat, a kerchief around the neck, and had a star drawn with body paint, or with what appeared to be hardened chocolate cake cover, above her left breast. She was 'riding' her horsy armed with a cardboard made whip in her hand, and feeding her horsy a chocolate carrot; Harry, the horsy, lay on his back, wore fake horse ears, and had a head band with a 'tail' made out yarn strands.

That was bad enough; but not nearly as bad as the fact that the 'sheriff,' aka Hermione, hence the painted star, was impaled on her horsy. "Faster, faster, be a good horsy, if you don't try harder, Voldi will escape this intrepid sheriff. Faster, boy horsy, faster I said." And she bent to offer her nipples to the hungry horse while his other hand was in her—. Ron turned around as if he had seen Voldi himself.

The flat reeked of sex and a wild orgy. He made a mistake and screamed like a girl, "Sorry, sorry, sorry." Yes, Ron blamed himself for speaking. Maybe it truly had been his fault; because, he had made them aware of the outside world.

He closed his eyes and ran away to his room, but not before he had seen the horse and the rider, covered with bites, scratches, and traces of body paint. He found discarded knickers on the stairs, bras, men's underwear, it was a mess.

As he walked towards his room he had the nightmarish vision of walls painted with hearts, arrows, lips kissing, and other not so children friendly graffiti. All art work was enchanted to move, and all properly labeled with arrows pointing to each artistic piece: Harry's- blank; Hermione's-blank; going into the target- blank, etc.

He understood his friends had really gone out the deep end. He ran to the loo; thoroughly washed his eyes with soap; and the sting made him feel a whole lot better.

He woke up the next day, and found the house back to normal; shiny and spanking clean. He also found the couple already engaged in a fighting match. Apparently, Vicky had sent a dozen roses and Belgium bonbons, which Harry had promptly opened, under the influence of the Green Eyed Monster.

That was truly Ron's fault; he had reopened the Owl window and reinstated the Floo.

Oh well, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Ron had opened the door to the enemy before the allegiance was well established. They were talking Las Vegas, Portkey, and the works when he had arrived. Had he come the next day, as in his original plan, things would now be safer for everyone, and Hermione's last name would have been Potter.

In the fancily wrapped gift box, there were no bonbons, but instead a naughty piece of lingerie and a naked picture of Vicky with a ribbon around his much erected piece while he played with life size pictures of 'The Sheriff.'

The pictures showed the witch dressed in five-inch high heels, riding gloves, and nothing else, 'riding' the team's professional broom in a suggestive fashion. That was the precise second when all went downhill, without any brakes.

And how did Ron know they had said the L word? Because the day he arrived, the equestrian pair had written the word Love, with body paint in her butt cheeks; and there were the banners all over the house, tacky at best, some might say pornographic, all had the L-word below it, "I love you." Or "I love you first" or "My love is greater." Or "I have loved you longer," You get the idea, even on that they had to outdo each other.

Life at Grimmauld 12 had never been the same since; it had turned into a slow descent into hell.

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A/N -I will publish the rest of the chapters, in fairly rapid sucession, it is a shorter fiction. Remember is not meant to be serious.


	2. An underhanded proposal

_Disclaimer JKR. Owns the HP world._

_Thanks to Sava for reading the story and pointing out where it needed work. She is just great. _

So we are back to read about the ongoing war between Harry and Hermione. Things are not back to normal. The war is escalating, and they have a take no prisoners' attitude. Ron is getting caught in the middle out pure curiosity. Let's read some more.

I am sad about the poor response but this was an experimental piece to test the waters out there. If you might want to read more stories like this let me know. thanks

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_Act III_

_The Dangers of the L-Four-Letter-Word _

Many smart people throughout history have stated that between love and hate is but a hair breadth. They have been correct, especially in this case, except here, our pair rapidly jumped across one emotion to the other, from one side to the opposite one, continuously, which made it for a hair rising experience.

This particular day, as she spoke, she was rising from the exercise mat but when she flipped her body to raise up; her short night gown rolled up and exposed a round bottom, clad in very tiny yellow boy shorts, which barely covered an inch of her delightful bum.

Her knickers had a stripe in the Bulgarian team colors, one golden snitch embroidered in one cheek, and a tacky heart with a "V" stitched in the center, tacky, yes, but what a delectable bum. His cock agreed by twitching an affirmative YES in response. Why keep fooling himself? Denial had lost this war, and he knew it. He loved the damn witch, and he had for a long time, but she was a ruthless slag.

"Oh tsk, tsk, dear me, are we tacky or what? So Quidditch slag knickers, is it now?" Harry growled as his face turned towards her; his eyes shut Voldermort-red flares of anger and lust.

"Are we packing those cushy buns for the big-Bulgarian-troll boy?" He said, raising an eyebrow, as his face turned a popish red.

"I never...you are loosing it Harry. And since when are my clothes your concern. Pervert, you are my brother, I might love you, but you are getting out of control. My love life is my business, not yours, not Ron's; it is M.I.N.E!" "I never said I was your brother." He dared her.

"No? You have like a million times. At the tent, two days after we had shagged; and let me so kindly remind you that a brother doesn't take his sister's cherry," she eyed him furiously, and he turned red, "add to that every time we have done **it**. And don't use the drunken, I-forgot-last-night excuses anymore; they no longer work with me." Her anger was not a pretty thing to watch.

"I am not the one with the Saint Potter's attacks. So if I shag Ron, or I did, Viktor, or Cormac or even the blond bimbo, Draco, or whoever, whenever or however, IT IS MY LIFE. IT IS MY BODY. LEAVE ME ALONE. Go and sniff after the Quidditch queens, whose snitches belong or have been used by others." She was an angry tornado coming at Harry at full-strength.

"So much for I love you more, and I love you best; and three days later, I meant, I love you like my sister—after you had shagged me, how many times? Like thirty in less than two and half days. Harumph!"

"Thirty three, you nasty witch, let me assure you that doesn't include all the blow jobs and the times I went down on you; learn your numbers." He huffed, totally annoyed at her inability to count. Thinking about it, was getting him hard, thinking about each of the times was driving him insane, no surprise there.

Ron tried covering his ears, thirty, thirty three, were those two sick or what, and not counting blowjobs and eating her. They must have taken a potion; yes, that had to be it. They were ruining his idea of what was hot sex; both had to be the best at all, prats, he wanted to be Obliviated.

However, too bad that morbid curiosity kept him captive to their mean banter. What they both needed was clearly a serious attitude adjustment. He heard one too many revelations. One of the worse was to find out that the Potter-the-pig had her cherry, in the tent, the damn liar. "Ron, it was a riding accident," she had told him the first time; yes, a-Harry-accident was more likely.

He, clearly, remembered Harry telling him, "Ron, mate, your dreams of Hermione and I loving each other are induced by Voldemort's Horcrux," indeed.

They were both sick, ill; and they needed to be interned in St Mungo's, next to Neville's parents. All kind of morbid thoughts were invading Ron's mind, poisoning him against his best friends.

Hermione was yelling, as she approached Harry. She looked positively ferocious, her finger was pointed forward, and if looks could kill Harry would be burned toast at that very instant. She poked his chest with the strength of a high-powered drill bit.

"And, furthermore, do I ever say anything when you still crawl to the Ginger -Maxi-slag, which could care less for you, since we all know who her true bed warmer is. Yes, she goes into your room, even now that she is married, what kind of wizard are you?" Her small frame had grown a good ten inches, Ron thought.

"You, nasty, nasty witch, don't dare call her any names! Ginny is not a slag, and she only loved me at the time. She was just helping Seamus, Neville, Dean, and Goyle through rough spots, they are just clients. She is mental health counselor, don't you forget. Besides is none of your business, there." He said it. And who was the jealous one here. Besides Ginny was married and they had only hugged since, kind of hug, or something close to it.

"Agh," muttered Ron who was quickly retreating back to his room. One thing was clear to him; he needed to leave as fast as humanly possible; while he still had his sanity intact because all their revelations constituted way too much information.

Crookshanks and Sarah, Harry's Norfolk terrier, followed their Uncle Ron's smart exit, and ran straight into Hermione's room. In the room each sat on one of her pillows to weather the thunderstorm brewing, to let it calm.

_Must be hurricane season_, Crookshanks thought. _But, no, there are none in Britain; the telly says that hurricanes are not a weather occurrence here._ _Oh well, moving right along, it must be naptime_. And he tried to get some shuteye, unsuccessfully; the fighting was way too loud.

"Hey Sarah, what do you say, how about a cozy nap by the humans' fireplace in the upstairs library." At the library, it was quieter, and the furry tenants lay close to one another, and dreamed of treats, and the nice humans they used to have, before the V-Incident warfare got started.

Downstairs, in the living room, the storm was gathering strength, with the thunder makers poking each other's chests, hair flying, pheromones and anger enzymes raging, noses flaring, and tempers exploding. It looked like a battle reenactment, and unfortunately it wasn't the first time.

_Act IV- Other players in the ongoing war_.

If the truth was told, the last two years had witnessed several of the same scenes. It was worse since Ginny had shown her true colors, and decided to marry an older Wizard, eighteen months after the Malfoy bimbo's disgraceful wedding.

Well not older, more like really old, like forty-two years old and she had married recently, six months before. The wedding took place after a speedy courtship; short of two weeks, after meeting him after a Harpies game.

He was a Polish count, whose nickname was Bluebeard. Ginny seemed to be related to the three wives, who all had died while giving birth. He lived in an old spooky palace (according to Ron and Harry), and had the galleons to make him very sexy.

Ginny had figured out Harry would not marry her any time soon. She and Molly had suspected that Hermione, that ugly frazzled hair short troll, had given him the same potion she fed the lot of the males who met her.

They knew, or hope, to be right; and for a long while, neither gave the credit Hermione deserved. Both had refused to see the fey like beauty, the slight swan she had grown into, never mind her mind boggling intellect, courage, and most of all loyalty, love and self-sacrifice and lack of malice. Let's not forget her bad temper, and ability to make Harry mad.

It is no wonder, that Ginny dropped her bait, sink, bobber, and hook to catch her blue-bearded fish, and voilà, Count a la Almandine. Within days of the first date, a Las Vegas wedding and no time for introductions; and even smarter, she kept Harry on the side. He didn't seem to mind the night escapades when she came into the guest room to administer massages, or when she dropped at all times to check on them.

As for Ron, he was smarter and had long given up on Hermione.

He was the business manager of a large enterprise largely owned by the warring couple. For now, he was too busy in the money growing business and astutely managing his wise investments and the company's, he had personally invested a million in marketing, which incorporated products designed and made by Hermione, Harry, George and his father.

The company designed and made anti-hex protective clothing and security devices, combining wizardry and Muggle technology. They hired consultant to work in the electronics portion, and the company grew.

Fleur was their accountant, Bill and Charley were field men, and Molly was in charge of taking care of all of them. They had all prospered beyond their dreams on a short six years.

As for Ron, would marry Loony in three months; and he could he wait to fly away from this battlefield, a true war zone.

Nobody dared to intervene because without their talent, the enterprise would fail, George and his father's gadgets were powerful sellers, but the brains behind the big money making ideas came from the trouble makers; however, but this was pure hell.

_Stupid Ginny's shenanigans, besides her frankly sluttish attitude stinks_, those were Ron's thoughts after the debacle he had witnessed. Never mind, Harry's betrayal, he had shagged Hermione when he had been in love with her, often it seemed; and his mind was in turmoil.

However, most of his anger was focused in Ginny that was making a bad situation worse. Of course, she had been a guest in their house a few days ago. Ron was sick thinking about Ginny, and wished he had not stayed to hear the rest of the fight.

Even Molly was tired of her comings, and as result her attitude towards Hermione had changed radically, even if Ginny's hadn't. Just last week, a drunken Death Eater that had gone to Hogwarts with Bill, had dropped Ginny in the Burrows' back door. She was absolutely intoxicated, with her stockings tied around her neck, and looking as if she had been snogged by an army.

Actually, Arthur had found her sleeping in an outside chair covered with an old blanket, stinking of firewhisky, and still drunk. The same day, Charley had taken her back to her husband, who grew weary of Ginny by the day.

The Count, as Arthur called him, was really a lovely person, dead wives aside. The last time they saw each other, Arthur pulled him aside, "Son, a piece of heartfelt advice, keep your wife in a short leash, and make her pregnant, soon. She hides her potion in a small red and yellow tin with her face creams." The count had hugged Arthur gratefully. He loved Ginny and didn't want to lose her.

The Count made a wise decision, this time he wouldn't trust his wife to the old midwife, and would go to St Mungo's with her for the baby's delivery.

So much for a murderer, instead, his spouses had died because of his old attitudes. He had refused to be modern; and no, it wasn't the old midwife either. It was his desire to conform to the old tradition, which demanded the babies were delivered in the old castle; where a murderous ancestor roamed, the real Bluebeard's ghost.

Now that Harry's status wasn't necessary, Molly no longer wished for the match. The Burrow had been renovated and made extraordinary by Audrey, Percy's wife. With the fortune earned, the Burrow was a feat of magical architectural genius, and it was all hers.

The structure was put right and to stand straight, the roofs had been shingled in tiles brought from Toscana, columns to support the crumbling structure; a new wing with large bedroom suites and private bathrooms was added. The kitchen was expanded and now sported Muggle state of gourmet tools, and appliances. Favorite of everyone was the popcorn maker, the cappuccino machine, and the convection stove with an indoor grill, a giant stove magically designed to fit a large cauldron, was outfitted with a steam oven.

But prosperity did not quench the fire of the Wizarding World War Three's daily battles, fought between the two battling factions, the golden duo members. The scrimmages and full blown battles had spilled into their office and the outside world.

The dueling events were now commonplace in the boardroom, during meeting with clients, and currently famous at every restaurant and bar at Diagon Alley. They had made first page in all the Wizarding world magazines. Bookies had bet pools going, it was a real mess.

The last incident, involved a brawl between Krum and Potter while they waited for Hermione to show up. Viktor had made a date with her, and Harry overheard their Floo conversation. Upon his data gathering, he promptly decided that the Oaf wasn't going to meet his witch.

A few seconds later he was facing Viktor. The conflict started with, "You don't deserve her."

Which was followed with a shove, and, "You, brutish ox, still have the Dark mark,' (true).

And a purposeful push, accompanied by, "Pervert, you shagged a 14 year old when you were 19," (not true).

Tempers truly flaring and a real hard push later, along with, "You got her first after the ball in (a lie) a jealous attack," (not true).

By this time the crowds were gathering around her, not caring and quite loud, "Be a wizard and tell the truth, you rotten s.o.b."

From there, it had escalated into a blown out wand and fist scrimmage, with the lunch crowd witnessing the display, while statically happy Paparazzi fired their cameras away, and bookies collected bets.

Regretfully, the Aurors picked up the two famous multi-millionaires, and they made all the tabloid and serious news magical wireless stations, the world around, for the sixth time in a few weeks.

The last three weeks had been a particular hell.

_Act V_

The-Underhanded-Proposal-Viktor throws a Gauntlet.

_Monday, three weeks before-_

"Hermione Granger have you seen my pink tie? The one you brought me from Milano for my birthday? "A gruff voice asked.

Better, Harry asked, damn well knowing what had happened to the tie. As soon as Ron heard "Pink tie," he decided to make himself scarce and no longer wished to eat any breakfast; immediately, he Apparated outside of the house and took a Muggle taxi to the office. However, he still had time to catch the just of the fight.

"Harry, Dear, I have told you at least three times. Last time that Viktor slept over, I packed it for him. He had a similar tie, and I put yours in his bag by mistake, the one you had left over the entrance table. Viktor had his luggage stolen and nothing can be done. I will buy you a new one. As a matter if fact, I already placed a request, but as you know, it will take several days, maybe weeks."

"I thought you would say that. Look at Vicky's tie during his last interview in Quidditch Weekly, it arrived today. Do you recognize it? No, no, ha, ha, no such luck. Please my Dear Miss Granger, would you allow me to read for you?" Hermione was looking at him horrified; she had long suspected Viktor's hand.

Ms. Hanna- "Mr. Krum, you are always such a fabulous dresser, I love your tie. Isn't an original Milano's Magic Ties, made out of silver spider silk, hand made, colored with a special process that takes several weeks..."

Ms. Hanna- "You are so right, that pink brings out your lips…"

The new and upcoming announcer of WNN, Wizarding News Network, was nearly on Krum's lap.

Krum, who never flirted or smiled, didn't this time, at least not publicly." I'm not sure, but you are probably right, my sweet Hermione only buys the best for me. She had bought me another shade, also exquisite, but when I asked her to exchange it for this colour. She is an angel, and she promptly made it a reality. She had to make others upset to please me. I love that witch, wherever you are my love."

He turned to the camera, "Hermione, I love your taste," He winked his eye, "and thank you that I am always your first." And for the first, ever, in public, he did another unusual gesture, the wink being the first, and he blew imaginary Hermione, an air kiss, the second.

"So you packed it, in error, did you say?" Harry's accusatory voice, tinged with deep darkness, was worthy of Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione had blushed, but not because she was guilty, because she was sick and angry with Viktor; the underhanded wizard, he had been playing dirty since the weekend seven weeks before. The L-weekend, the one that had gone sour; the tie was a trick from the Bulgarian, damn troublemaker.

"My Mimi, you marry me now, no big vedings, just you and I. Yes? I am going to make you say yes. You, my little gold snitch, do I play dirty, yes? Very dirty, but I, Viktor Krum, I am best seeker in world, and Potter is a babe in dirty playing games. All fair in love, yes?"

Yes, the underhanded Bulgarian, had indeed said it, at the end of the interview to all those who read Quidditch news, and of course, for the Wizarding world at large; he had thrown a gauntlet. The balls, the nerve, face it, he was an idiot.

No, no, and no, Hermione thought, she needed to get rid of Viktor, but how? Albeit, he never flirted in public, and she had him investigated before, nevertheless. He had affairs carefully hidden by his PR wizards; hidden yes, but Hermione's female intuition was clear, and had told her that he was a player.

After the ill fated, public proposal, the screaming started and spilled into the office, that very same day. Hermione cried hard and finally was so very sick, that she ended up throwing up right at the conference room before meeting with clients. And Molly had come and cradled the crying witch in her arms.

It really had to end. However, there was no end in sight. Viktor had just proposed and Hermione was torn.

* * *

A/N

Next time tomorrow, we are past the mid point. The story is around 12,500 Words. Let me know if you like it. thanks.


	3. The Game - Again

Yes, Irmorena, you are ever so clever. Your assumptions were right. And here we continue.

And the chapter was cut-off after I loaded it. Strange I loaded the entire chapter. We will try again, if not, I will move to another site. I'll put the link in my profile.

X0xx0X

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Act VI

**The Witch's Conflict and Viktor**

**Hermione**

She loved Viktor, some, and had fabulous sex with him, but he was just plain old boring, and he only talked Quidditch. She was his gold snitch, his term of endearment, and as far as he would go. He could never let go and could not behave even a little wild; nevertheless, he was a technically perfect lover, and he knew how to pleasure her; and his manners were impeccable.

However, he wasn't playful, romantic, or spontaneous, and was neither inventive, nor adventurous; his idea of wild was taking the pictures and only because she had begged, stupid, stupid; those damn pictures had been the nails in her coffin.

With Harry, they could watch cartoons for hours, go to the Muggle movies, and spend a day at the library. At the library, they would eat chocolates and chips, hidden from the librarian. Harry would read Manga and Superhero comic books while she did research. He also read on the Malfoy's history to increase his knowledge on the disliked Death Eater.

True, his studies of the Malfoy's past came in handy, since he was the jokes' mastermind; and they loved to pull practical jokes on the Malfoy. They wanted to spend hours laughing to a long repertoire of jokes acquired over the years. They would talk all kinds of nonsense, and things had great until ten weeks ago.

Bickering was always present, and they used to have a blow out once in a while, but not like this. In this war, somebody was going to get killed. Even Hermione was growing afraid; Harry and Viktor were now bitter enemies; it was turning a shade too dark.

**Viktor the Cunning**

Viktor was going to get the witch if his life depended on it; he had played a very dirty trick on her. He would not let a measly Potter steal the witch, the one he had planned to make his wife when he settled down, after he retired. He had wanted her the second he saw her, long ago.

He did not want to give up the groupies, he might not flirt, but he liked the variety and the glamour of being wanted. He also liked to be adored by several witches at once. Sadly, he also wanted a wife that everyone would envy, and one that made him randy just looking at her, and only his curly haired Hermione filled that bill.

She had since his eyes had first seen her; yes, he had wanted to have it her, but he knew that British law wasn't forgiving. Besides, his coach had reminded him when he caught him kissing Hermione and guessed his intentions.

The Krum males didn't practice fidelity, and their witches supposed to look the other way. He lived in fear the witch would find out; Hermione wouldn't be the forgiving kind, and he was afraid he actually loved her. No, she would never find out, he had a good front. He had even shagged the interviewing witch, right on her dressing room, and then had laughed in her face when she asked to see him again.

"You vere the one who vanted me, and grabbed my bollocks during interview. So, tell me, vy should I risk my luf for you? My agent told me you shag every other Quidditch player your interview, so don't even try or your boss finds out. Yes?"

The new casting witch sat there heartbroken; she was neither the first, nor, the last. Viktor had a clear agenda, and he wouldn't stop until he accomplished it.

Even sadder was the fact, that he didn't know the truth; love was taking a hold of him. Albeit the day would come when he no longer could deny his love for Hermione, it would be too late. Alas, as some would say, the gods don't punish with a stick or with a whip, they have better ways.

He had played her along for years, until he was ready for her. If she would only knew the extent of his deviousness; he had gotten Draco drunk, and had convinced him not to listen to his heart. In Viktor's mind, Malfoy had it coming, because Draco had stolen Hermione from him.

Before getting Draco drunk, Viktor had done some digging around. He had even approached Lucius, and found out his penchant for the golden duo.

Lucius loved celebrity, "I wish Miss Granger would even look at Draco, but there is too much bad blood between them. She is a doll, petite, curvy, and full of sensual energy. You are very lucky that she considered you once. I personally think that she has a secret love; it could be Mr. Potter, they make a powerful couple, you would do well cultivating their friendship, it is a ticket into privileged places."

Once again, Lucius paused and looked far away. His words describing Hermione had Viktor raging and in the verge of losing his cool.

"I would be willing to overlook her blood, if only she would consider our family; however, Draco is not strong enough for her. Whoever gets her, will have a brilliant future...she is always in the news, and her fame will benefit her chosen partner. Now, if I was free..." Lucius eyes took a dreamy look that made Viktor's blood boil in anger.

Viktor was, both, disgusted and leery. The old snake had a thing for his witch; moreover, he might welcome Hermione into his family, and he knew his way ahead. Viktor had to get rid of Draco once and for all. First find his intentions, and then execute his plan.

"I had my eyes on her since the Yuletide ball." Draco confided, the day when they had met at a bar.

"Who is her?" Viktor asked casually while pouring Draco another glass out the bottle he had ordered.

"My Granger, of course, I love her. I know you were seeing her, and I was so envious." Draco continued his ill timed confession, to his worse enemy, too much firewhisky in a short time.

"It vas just a luf game. I already forgot, I haf many lufs." He smiled a predator's smile; but his eyes burned with murderous intent as Draco bragged. The drunken fool went on, with graphic details, about his love making with the curly hair babe. Poor Draco, he was oblivious of the noose tightening around his neck, with each word spilled.

"Did you know that my parents are pushing me to sign a marriage contract with insipid Astoria, she is beautiful and vane, and she repulses me...I am thinking of telling my father that I love someone else." Draco wanted advice, and he asked none other than the Bulgarian devil; thus sealing the worse bargain of his young life.

And knowing Lucius' stand, he couldn't allow Draco to talk to his father. Once Viktor made him see the error of his ways, Draco spilled the real beans. The blond idiot was planning to run away with her.

After Draco's latest revelations, Viktor now knew what to say.

"Draco, your parents vant Pureblood babies, Lucius vould kill you, don't ask him. You only good for Pureblood vife, yes? Granger good, but not for Malfoys. Lucius vants Pureblood babies. He vill take money avay, so don't say anything." Viktor saw Draco paling, and he had only told a few lies.

"I haf good idea, she vill be your mistress. Go ahead and marry Astoria. You and Astoria make Pureblood babies, yes? I am good friend of Malfoys, same club, ve Purebloods stick together...so trust me, I vill arrange it for you. Hermione listens to me, ve go vay back. I vill need some Galleons to make it happen. I am a businessman."

The day Draco had come to claim his prize and it was obvious he was not doing well. He was pale, had not shaved in days, was disheveled, and was an overall mess. Viktor was avoiding him; therefore, Draco had waited for Viktor after one of the games.

Draco was about to find the errors of his ways, "You told me that she would be mine, and to tell my parents that I would marry Astoria. Now the contract is signed and I made an unbreakable vow. You said that no Pureblood should ever marry her, and I believed you." He stood in front of Viktor and grabbed a handful of his robe and shoved him. Viktor stood ground with his arms crossed.

"Now deliver Hermione to me. She was angry, and I am very afraid. I should have followed my heart and gone away with her. What a fool, instead, I listened to you. I paid you a fortune, now you must go and talk to Hermione; I cannot lose her." At Malfoy's ridiculous speech, he had laughed on his face. What could Malfoy do, sue him?

"No, vat I told you, is that you, a Pureblood idiot, shouldn't marry her. I said, "Malfoy vizards are not good enuf for my Granger," she is mine; and she vill be my vife. She vill never be a Malfoy, never. "

Draco had tried to hex him, but Viktor was a better dueler.

Viktor had attended the wedding, with Hermione hanging on his arm, and Harry had gone with Ginny. Viktor kept his eye on Potter, he had heard Lucius. A Krum was vigilant and kept track of his opponents, and Harry could be one.

Viktor winked his eye to the pale groom while Hermione looked radiant dancing with him. He noticed the powerful Malfoy wizards' mournful eyes, and he eyed them with disdain. He held his prize even closer.

He had been planning this for a very long time, since had kissed her after the ball. Nobody had ever taken a witch from the house of Krum, they were conquerors. He laughed at Malfoy's anger, and he didn't now worry because Malfoy couldn't tell Hermione; not without first disclosing his part.

He was smiling and very happy remembering his latest dark feat. Instead of the normal contraception spell, just right after the fated weekend; he had performed a very powerful fertility spell and did not feel bad at all. He had known about Harry after reading the news after the Malfoy ball. Yes, the news, which foolish Draco had made sure, would reach him even before they were published. He wanted to rub his nose on the mess.

He had been in America playing a game, and paid a fine to miss the game; in order to go to London and stop the dirty-dancers. However, Viktor, as all others, had been unable to reach Hermione. Viktor was a warrior, and instead of wasting valuable time being upset, he had planned his next strike, his next tactical move; Krums never lost.

Now, he kept asking her how she was feeling, hoping for a little nausea, you know.

Krum thought he was not in love with Hermione, not at that point, and maybe he wasn't, more with her image and with her fame. He loved her body and to him she was perfection, her curves, her small frame, her soft skin, her untamable curls, her contagious smiles.

He truly adored her golden snitch, it was an obsession, and he fancied it had been made to his cock's specifications. Yes, he was addicted to her body, and to the pleasure he found during their encounters, and no other compared to her. However, he wanted variety, it was the spice of his life; a trait ingrained since the time he was able to understand. Krum wizards didn't love, they took.

Even his sister-in-law, who hated her marriage, had told her, "Hermione, you must stay away from the Krum wizards, they give you all the material things money can buy. Yes, you are rich and have all you want. But their heart is something else, they don't have one, they are too selfish." Hermione had to bring her a handkerchief to dry her tears. She was having a hard time believing this.

I was blinded by their gold, and no matter what I do to leave, I am stopped. Yes, I am a prisoner for life. Run and marry someone else, and maybe just maybe, you will escape the Krum clutches. To date, nobody has escaped them. They wait in the dark, and take you when least expected."

A little made up song would later come and haunt Hermione, "Run, run as fast as you can. You will catch me; you are Viktor, the Krum-Wizard-Man."

**Act VII**

**Hermione's remembers the Game**

Poor Hermione, she was certain a Krum's baby grew inside her womb, and her heart was torn to pieces. Not because she was pregnant, because it probably was Viktor. She had found the fertility potion in the coffee he served her. It tasted off, and she had it tested.

The reason she was sad, had always been in front of her eyes but she had been too blind to see it; she was, totally, madly in love with Harry J. Potter.

Hermione nostalgically remembered that Valentine's Day, the funniest and most fun day of her life, if not the sexiest.

They had played all kind of silly sex games pretending they were twisted souls. They were laughed and shagged like crazy. They even forgot to eat after Kreacher had abandoned them, but occasionally ate Muggle frozen food. These days Kreacher didn't get up until they were gone, he had taken a page from the furry tenants; their fighting was getting to him.

They had often read of couples that pretended one was a horse, and the other was the groom. They had laughed afterwards so hard her stomach hurt; not because they thought it was wrong, just funny; thus the horse and sheriff story was born. And they played "Sheriff" several times until damn Ron had come in and ruined it all. Yes, they both, Harry and Hermione, internally, blamed Ron for ruining the GAME.

As revenge, they shagged at Ron's doorstep twice after he came home that night; and had pretended to be Ron and Loony; but, they waited for him to be asleep. She hung radishes from her neck and made a crown with antennas made out foil and a charm to make her eyes bug out; Harry painted his face with giant red dots, freckles and charmed his hair color to ginger.

During the two days, they read about all kind of weirdness and had tried most. She logged in the Internet to alternate sites to learn more. They made sex toys out of cardboard and construction paper and painted them with crayons. They beat each other with cooked spaghetti noodles and laughed like crazy. Tied belts across their chests pretending to be dominatrix and master; made paper hats for each costume and didn't charm them to look real, their Muggle roots clearly showed, what fun.

Okay, they were shameless and shagged like sex-maniacs. They both took potions for the pain ensued; naturally, after a while they were raw and nothing would work. Hence, they diligently consulted the Black library and made fast remedies to halt any sort of discomfort.

Why did they do it? First it felt good, and mostly, because it was so much fun and they wanted to keep on going. Strange, Harry told her that he had never been able to do it so many times in a row. It was their powerful magic coming together, but they hadn't known it. It was true L.O.V.E.

Yes, that pesky feeling finally caught up with them; "Oh, Hermione, this is the best. Hold me, just like that. Gods, yes, kiss me, you mouth is lovely... I am not sure what I am feeling...Yes... Come, come my love...I love when you come...oh, yes, I love you…I do, I love you, love you, love you!"

And once the word was out in the open, it stayed.

"Harry, I love you too... say it while we come..., say it. I love, love you…"

After Love made its arrival, Hermione remembered, it all became pure magical fun. They couldn't say it enough, and they easily incorporated Love, the new arrival, into the wild craziness.

They drew their declaration on the walls, on their bodies, on paper, and screamed it during their repeated orgasms; those, they tallied, and had a bet of how many times, how fast, how slow, and how close they were to a target time. They had all kinds of wagers for gold, and she ended up two galleons ahead. She had saved them.

They dressed up like couples they knew, yup Dumbledore and Maggie, a little on the disgusting side, Oops; and she shouldn't forget Lucius and Narcissa, both fussing at each other for mussing each other's hairs while they shagged. And Lucius putting mascara and a little white color around his eyes, bummer, Harry's hair was too short to tie it.

Kreacher arrived home that Saturday at lunch. He had gone to visit relative and was furious over the mess he found: a trail of melted chocolate, sliced cucumbers, chewed carrots, pasta noodles, etc. Yes, a giant mess, and totally disgusted, he had left for an undefined time.

What did it was seeing the wayward couple running around naked while they played: Chase the Death Eater. They wore nothing but a skull-shaped-paper mask, and a shawl tied to their necks with a written glowing charm, Death Eater-The Game.

He had mumbled something about "You two is not being proper." And louder, "Nasty wizards and nasty witches, they is bad, playing Knockturn Alley games, bad, dirty and bad. You is catching a nasty illness from playing wicked games. Mating is in bed, doors closed, lights out, not looking, and never with vegetables and foods. You is bad, bad, and Kreacher is afraid to be here." They had laughed at poor Kreacher's sour expression and had paid zero attention.

When he came back, days later, he emptied the kitchen and bought everything fresh. "Lord Potter, I need lots of Galleons, everything be spoiled." Harry raised his eyebrow, but had to control a guffaw. He didn't even argue, what was the point, Kreacher had drawn a line.

The ornery House-elf brought two of his nieces; they worked for an entire day, and with their fingers and mysterious potions they zapped Grimmauld 12 clean; and they carefully went from room to room. During the cleaning, they wore strange socks that cover their entire bodies and clear gloves over their spindly hands. Poor her dear furry friends, they also were thoroughly washed, brushed, and disinfected, "Just in case." Kreacher had mumbled. Hermione smiled at the memory.

One of their favorites had been 'Molly-wobbles' and Arthur's play crib. ' Hermione giggled remembering; Arthur walking around with hard-on, chasing after Molly-wobbles right after delivering a baby; Harry-Arthur catching her in the kitchen, in the loo, over the pretend children's beds, while she cooked for the babies. They made a play for each child, after each imaginary birth...at the end she was Mow-bellyna and he was Arthu-robbles. "Ha, ha, ha," she laughed remembering.

Harry even exorcised his inner demons pretending he was uncle Vernon with his huge gut, wearing an extension in order to get anorexic aunt Petunia pregnant. And Petunia, "Oh Vernon dear, where is your ding-dong, I cannot find it under your tummy." She had to laugh even louder at that memory.

She counted 100 bruises and bites on Harry, she had 99. He won. And Hermione froze right there, a memory was bubbling, trying to rise to the surface of her consciousness.

Wait, wait, wait, when was the last time they had casted a contraceptive spell, or she had taken potion? Mmm.

They had not, they totally forgot, the realization brought light back to her eyes. That was it.

The baby could be Harry's. She needed a test. She was so happy that she could cry, of course, and wait, they had pretended… They played a game, of Fleur's saga trying to get pregnant; after all they had heard enough about it," he, he," she laughed remembering, or 'Corking the Veela.'

Harry had made her lie with her legs up on the wall, and had CASTED A SUPER FERTILITY SPELL WHILE HE RECITED INCANTATIONS. He had actually casted a few spells, right from the Black's library.

Afterwards, he had put a champagne cork on her..."He, he." She was laughing joyously, she was happy.

Harry had used his wand, growling like a wolf, annoyed with 'Fleur,' "Stay put Fleur, we already had too much champagne, and if you squirm I break the cork," Harry-Bill had said, "and remember that we have to save for the wolf's bane."

Perhaps, they had had too much fun and nobody was allowed to laugh that much. She went into her wardrobe, and pulled out a box. It contained the wig that she had transfigured several times, the cowgirl kerchief, the yarns' horse tail, and a few more mementos from those couple of days, and in a plastic baggie, the cork. She cried and laughed, remembering—

"Guilly amour you take my tempegatuge." And later," Quick, quick cogk me ."

Harry attached a feather duster to Hermione's neck to pretend she was the Veela, and they were at the Burrow eating dinner. "On Guilly my tempeagutge is pegfect, excuse us shagging time, we will go into ze washroom."

That had actually happened, and Molly had been upset for days. They had forgotten to put a silencing spell, and they could hear," the cork, get the cork, get the cork;" Bill had run out asking for either wine or champagne corks, and George had spit out his soup from laughing so hard. Even Arthur was in tears, laughing, but, poor Molly, she ran to her room crying, and you guessed Arthur had run after her.

Goodness, if the trick had worked, she would share the secret with Bill and Fleur. "He, he," she happily laughed again.

X0x

* * *

A/N. This is the next to the last part. I had fun, even if the GP was not receptive. It is an exaggeration, but I have read one too many romance novels which exaggerate so much, that I decided to go all the way.

We all need to laugh once in a while.


	4. Losers and Winners

JKR Owns HP and its characters

* * *

And here we come to the last act. Thanks to those who pointed kind reviews. And my thanks to Savva who always ikeeps pushing me to go on.

* * *

**_Act VIII_**

**All is well- NOT!**

Harry had, just, heard about her barfing in the conference room. And he wondered hmm, and remembered the V-Incident day, or the Game.

_In the middle of the wackiness, they had made a guaranteed 'to make you pregnant potion.' The same that Fleur had tried without results, and kept asking Hermione to fix it. Hermione had laughed because he had painted her head to toe with the stuff, to be 'doubly potent,' and licked it. They had searched for old fertility spells, and he chanted them while licking it. _

His heart was fluttering with joy. He prayed to his parents' souls, _Help me, I want her, I truly love her, and this is the only way._

_He had done the same and had painted his body with the potion, which she also had cleaned with her tongue. Plus, he had also casted an enchantment that Fleur had used._

Hermione was remembering about the potion, at the same instance.

It was lunchtime, and they all had decided to eat-in, Harry was in the break room waiting for the other, when Vicky came thru the Floo.

"What are you doing here Mr. Bulgarian wonder-ox?" asked Harry, ready to fight.

"This is none of your business, boy-vonder. Vere is my vitch?"

"She is vomiting her guts out." Harry answered with a giant grin and raised his eyebrows twice, like, _guess what_?

_Fuck it, if Vicky isn't smiling as if he is static. What is going on?_ Harry wondered.

Hermione stepped in, and Viktor grabbed her arm.

Shortly after, Bill came in, "Harry we have a meeting with the Malfoys. They will be producing the children tracking-protection devices, we must go. The consultants from America and Russia are coming in."

"Err, can you go alone?" Hermione and Vicky were talking and fighting, and he wanted to hear. This was when all hell broke loose.

"You are wrong, my luf, if you are pregnant is mine. I play dirty and give you fertility potion in coffee. I am smart. Potter is babe in dirty games; I tell you before; and I tell all my fans: Viktor king of playing dirty."

Harry heard his insults and about his dirty games; thus, his blood pressure rose, and his chest ached. He couldn't deal with the oaf making Hermione upset. There were others listening gathered at the door; they were not at ease, at the dark storm brewing.

"No, it is Harry's. I tested and it said it was Harry's." Yes, and no, she wasn't telling the truth, it had also said: Viktor. It was most confusing, and she needed a healer. Yes, she was planning to see one after the meeting.

"I take you to healer, and ve marry today," he ordered, not asked. "If it is Potter's no matter; we Krum love all babies. Babies are good, they are new life, a magical blessing, and they love poppa they grow vif (with)." He crossed his arms arrogantly, just as he had spoken.

Actually, he was telling the truth, and he would rub it on Potter's nose. What could be better than Harry's child to grow as his beloved son; he would call him Poppa and would love him as well. "My uncle forced his vitch to marry him." He looked at Harry with a nasty smirk.

He laughed at Harry's expression, "She vas pregnant with uncle's best friend's child; he had made it happen while Tito L., his friend, vas gone in diplomatic mission. Krum men get their vay. My uncle loves his heir. Tito is his only boy; his son's name is same as friend's name, funny, yes? Tito Krum is his-no-longer-best-friend's child. Good Krum dirty game. "

Viktor's laugh was sinister. And yes, Krum Wizards were Dark, and not even good friends, just ask Draco.

Hermione was looking at Viktor totally horrified, who was this wizard?

**_Act IX-_**

**_The Showdown_**

All the others listening were speechless, none could believe the words coming out Viktor's mouth, not the story, but the fact he was planning to do the same. Everyone present had the same thought, _He must be stopped._

"She is mine, always has been. Not Draco's, not Vesley's, not McLaggen's, and not yours Harry Potter." He concluded and looked around, knowing that others were listening. Viktor grabbed her forcefully by the waist; by this time, she was more than a little scared and crying.

"Let her go," It was Molly, she walked towards him, her wand was out, and she appeared more than a little peeved.

At the end of the day, Hermione was a better daughter than Ginny, plus, Harry and Hermione had made them all wealthy. And, by Merlin, she wouldn't let another crazy take a child of hers; Fred had been more than enough.

Hermione was her daughter, after all, her parents were dead, and she called her Mom. Molly came towards him, committed to stop him even if there were a chance of being harmed. The others were too far away.

"Get away, you Vesley cow, the vitch is mine." He was backing up to the Floo, he had tried Apparating but the wards didn't allow it.

"It is Harry's baby; we made it while playing at putting the cor—, oops never mind." She saw Bill and blushed.

"I don't care, I vait for you since Hogwarts, you said," Viktor vait," and I do. I said, baby in my luf's belly is my baby, and baby is mine, the end." He meant business.

"You wanted to wait several years. Besides, Harry and I," she couldn't say she loved him when Harry was yet to declare his love for her.

"Ah, sweet, you luf, him, so sad, too bad; life sucks; shit happens; Muggles say that, yes?" And he guffawed quiet nastily, "And you better know that you are mine. I tell that to team and vorld; I tell in Magical telly, and vireless, you're mine."

He held her tighter to him. So tight, that she was having problems breathing. Tears blinded her, and a deep fear took a hold of her. Her belly was aching as well.

"She doesn't care. Viktor Krum, you are going to let her go very gently, but before, you throw your wand here." Harry commanded. His love for her was making him afraid; the oaf was a crazed wizard.

Ron, Arthur, and George had heard the commotion and were approaching slowly.

"No, I von't," he pointed the wand at her belly. "If you try anyzing I have accident vit vand. Old spell cannot kill Krum baby, if yours, too sad." His smile was cold and wicked.

Hermione could hear Viktor's heart pumping and felt his hands shaking. She knew, he was afraid, and the situation had gotten out of hand. He would do just what he had threatened to do. And she didn't want anyone hurt...What she did next, well the results would tell.

She raised her knee, in a defensive move that Moody had taught the witch years before; her intent was to knee his bollocks and disable him.

After successfully hitting the target, he didn't even flinch. "Mosquito bite, I am tough, yes?"

"If you don't let her go and harm the baby, hmm, there are five, no six wands and seven with mine, pointed at you. If you don't believe me then, I will call: Percy?" Percy had just entered the room, "Here," And so he went through the list, George, Arthur, Ron, and Bill. Fleur had gone to get lunch, and he had already counted Molly. Angelina was at home with the babies.

It all might have gone another way, but Viktor didn't travel alone; he had planned all along to marry her that same day. He had heard of her nausea, and his PR agent had come. A burly nasty wizard jumped out the Floo with three assistants and in seconds they had control of the situation. They used a Dark Magic hex to bind them. The situation had taken a wrong turn and it appeared hopeless.

Viktor had not let on Hermione, not one inch, and she was being taken to an unknown Floo point where others waited, when Fleur came into the room

"Why are you taking Ermione, let her go. Where is everyone you big oaf, you monster!"

They were all frozen, hexed with a nasty form of the Petrificus Totalis, casted by Viktor's reinforcements.

Fleur loved Hermione; she had been the first one to be kind to her and was frankly sick and tired of the many sorrows that had befallen the family. She and Molly had it, and often talked about it.

Seeing Hermione pale and scared made something snap inside her. Looking at the younger witch, with her Veela magic powers, she felt a baby in Hermione' womb, two babies, and the Veela came out protectively for a female friend in need.

A harpy isn't just ugly, that is incorrect. A harpy is a terrifyingly scary creature, her nails elongated, extremely fast reflexes and increased strength. Viktor was at the Floo ready to cast the powder when a flying ugly bird landed on him.

She picked him up with her talons and threw him against the wall, and after he hit his head, she spread her wings wide, hissed at the men coming at her, and showed her fangs filled mouth, nearly a beak. Harpies were impervious to most magical spells, however, there was no need, and the wizard thugs were frozen in fear.

For those who were used to see the beautiful Fleur, i.e. Viktor, were scared. Female Veelas are nasty creatures when in Veela mode, they are vampires. She jumped on the one helping Viktor to keep anyone away from Hermione, with a sharp nail cut a slash in his neck; turning fast brought the other two down with her strong wings.

Unfortunately, one more of his cronies came in at the last second and threw a heavy object on Fleur, temporarily disabling her.

Viktor took advantage and was about to leave with Hermione; fortunately, Draco had come in one of his daily runs, hoping to be the one who cashed from the ongoing rift, and be the lucky winner of Hermione.

He convinced his father to stop at the "" to pick up a new set of plans. He had planned to escort her to the meeting at the Malfoy offices, and to drive her in one of the magically converted Muggle limousines.

"Nobody steals from the Krum..." Viktor was laughing at Fleur on the ground, moaning in pain. She was back to her human form and not doing well. He had casted the Floo powder and fixed to leave, and had actually started to step inside the large fireplace, but he was out of luck. He had a wand pointed at his neck.

He was surprised to see Draco Malfoy, followed by Lucius, and Fleur converted back to Veela. In seconds they had reversed the outcome. The Malfoys had heard enough to jump in the room ready to fight.

Hermione was coming back, after she had fainted since the brute held her too long and too tight. She hadn't seen Fleur in action, but caught the transformation, and totally missed Draco's performance. She did see Draco, Lucius and Fleur, with their wands, as they unfroze the others. Most surprising was to see Harry shaking Draco's hand, gratefully.

Lucius wanting to catch the glory picked up the witch in his arms, and was photographed by the media when coming out to take her to the hospital.

At Mungo's the truth came out, the test had been wrong and right, she had an out of uterus pregnancy from Viktor; and with magic and a newly acquired sonogram machine the fetus was carefully extracted, but, regardless of the efforts it wasn't possible to save it. She was sad and mourned the dead baby, but was happy for the one she was able to keep. She, secretly, blamed Viktor for holding her too hard, nobody would ever know.

She didn't file charges against Viktor; furthermore, she requested that he wasn't imprisoned. The Weasleys were unhappy, but nevertheless Arthur talked to the Ministry. Viktor was blocked to come back into Britain, with special dispensation when he played games, but always under strict supervision; Hermione approved it, in a way, she would always love Viktor, go figure.

Meanwhile Harry decided to tell her the truth about his feelings. He came into the hospital room. He had a small gift box. "Here this is for you."

She opened, and inside she found a sheriff star made out cardboard paper, it read 'Granger, the intrepid Ranger,' and under it, a wedding ring.

She cried, "I know what to do with the star, but with this?" she pointed at the ring.

"I am a coward tha is in love with you. I never had a sister, and frankly, I hope other wizards don't feel as I do for their sisters. I was very afraid with Bulgy because I still cannot stand the thought of you loving him. If you can find to forgive me, please marry me. Besides, imagine, we can play Sheriff for the rest of our lives, what do you say, Sheriff Granger?" He smiled and waited for an answer.

**_Closing Act_-**

The Burrow was dressed in its Sunday finery. It was the stage for the largest wedding to ever have been hosted on its grounds. The guests were mixed, the Light and the Dark rubbed elbows, and the Malfoys were amongst the invited.

Lucius had complained, and stood there, in a front tow, appearing put out and unhappy. He felt the wedding should have been at the Manor; after all he had saved the day. He was convinced the idea to stop by their office, the day of the failed abduction, had been all his. If Draco wasn't the groom, at least, he wanted some of the glory.

After Harry had refused, he had asked to give the bride away, and Arthur had looked at him incredulously, "Lucius, your sister- in-law tortured Hermione at your manor. Let's forget you made such a request."

Lucius didn't want to forget, choosing Arthur over him, didn't sit well in his stomach. He had even held a press conference to discuss his role in the rescue, and had expressed his hurt feelings, which had made for a good laugh.

Internally, he was disgusted at Draco looking at all the media attention. The entire Wizarding World was glued to the Wireless, and to the new Magical telly, watching the wedding of the decade.

Why couldn't Draco be the one standing next to the witch, and the Malfoys get all the glory? Why, because he was Black and lacked a vision, didn't know how to advance. As Viktor had said it, the witch was the prize gold snitch. Potter was the winner, if only...

Draco sat to his left, his eyes moist and wishing he had fought his parents for the right to be with her. He turned to look at his father with contempt and was surprised to find his father's eyes, they expressed the same emotion. Both despised each other, for all the wrong reasons.

The Weasley all had teary eyes at the emotional occasion, especially Molly who was the proud mother of the bride, a self-appointed title. To her left sat Ginny, whose face was a pale green, and her eyes weren't too cheerful.

The sight of her nemesis marrying Harry made her stomach even queasier. To her right stood the proud, handsome Count, holding his wife possessively around the waist; luckily, he had found the red and yellow tin and his pregnant wife was expecting twins. He was moving them to London in a few months, wishing to be closer to modern medical care.

Hermione and Harry were dressed for the occasion, both looked their part, and wizards and witches cried at the lost chances. Many remembered the dirty dancers in action, something hard to forget, the magazines and newspaper editions has become collector's items, and all wished to be the other half.

Hermione's robe easily hid the rounded belly, and he smiled at the metallic embroidery design over her breast, a tiny, shiny star. Ron saw it when he stood next to Harry whose robe had silver buttons with a horse head engraved on them; he rolled his eyes and turned bright red. Harry caught it, and bride and groom looked at each other with a mischievous twinkle in their eye.

The guests all waited with a bated breath for the ceremony. Meanwhile, an older wizard who nobody remembered inviting, wasn't smiling, was walking towards the front rows.

Right before the wedding vows, a cloud of wizards dressed in the colors of the Bulgarian flag, and their Quidditch uniform, descended upon the wedding couple, grabbed the screaming bride, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke. The "older" wizard ran to the house Floo to disable it. Once done, he fixed to Apparate but before he turned back into Viktor.

Draco had caught the action, and once again about to be a hero. He went into the house, and managed to hold on to Viktor's robe and Sided-Along with him.

Upon Reapparating at the new location, an Unplotted house by the Baltic Sea, Viktor felt a wand right at his neck. Hermione was also Apparating with the Bulgarian wizards who had Apparated in the air after taking her.

Draco was all business, "Bring her back to her wedding, or you are dead meat. I lost her for listening to you. But Potty won her fair and square. I should have run away with her as I told you I would do. Besides, I saw them shagging, and what she did with him was different. We all wish we could be loved like that."

He actually dried an angry tear and continued, "I deserve a cold life with Astoria, for being an idiot and listening to you. I am not sure what you deserve, but it is not her. Bring her back or you die."

"No, I vill not, she is mine. You cannot do anyzing to convince me." Viktor answered.

"How many more times, are you going to play this game, you are so boring? My father is a bad wizard, and has recently taught me a nasty, nasty hex; just in case. He spotted you, and we're ready for you. The hex will slice your wizard's weapon, with two short words."

He muttered one of the words, "Even if your people or you were to disable me, I only have to think the word, and you are done. Now, let's go and bring the bride back, right now."

Several months later, Draco stopped by Mungo's, he had received the happy news and was ecstatic. His father wasn't, "Once again I am cheated of my right," he complained

The incidents did not changed Draco, and he still came to visit as often as possible. He had a very interesting conversation with his father, and kept his hopes up. He wished his father opened earlier, oh well.

He came into the room, and his eyes light with the pleasure of seeing his love.

"Thanks for the honor, I will be happy to be the Godparent. She is such a pretty baby. Hermione, my dear, you look beautiful, "and his eyes lowered to her exposed breast now feeding the infant Rose. Harry looked at Draco's grey eyes, and yes, they were full of lust.

"Romeo, lose the look, now. You will not be the Godparent if you keep this up. And once again, Draco, a fair warning: you will never, ever be the lover. What you are is our business manager and maybe the Godparent if your roving eyes don't disqualify you, now scram." he turned and looked at Harry, whose eyes glowed red. Draco shivered.

"And let's not forget it, okay?" He winked his eye, still glowing red.

Inside Harry's brain, the Green Eyed monster smiled and kept an eye on the red eyes.

_The End?_

_P.S. _Outside St Mungo's a witch who strangely resembled Viktor was entering the building. Her arms were full of flowers and a couple of gifts wrapped in pink tissue, "Excuse me young man, where is the maternity floor?"

* * *

**Xox**

**a/n I hope you enjoyed it. And yes it is over**


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